ore 2 WINS &, foe 


Che One Kingdom to Come 


By Aparr WELCKER. 
(Copyright, 1916, by Adair Welcker.) 


(Wherein is set forth the supreme Jaw of the science of man; and what 
are the acts of men wherethrough additional life can be added to the planet: 
and such understanding [greater than before he has had] be brought to every 
man, as can alone, through the willingness of men then to live according to it, 
forever bring peace to the earth.) 


Introductory 


While waiting for the time to come, when mankind would be in condition 
to receive the greatest law of science, ever to men given, that is in this work 
contained, the writer has been engaged, for many years, without compensa- 
tion in preparing and delivering work—leading up to what is in this for men, 
to the institutions of learning of nearly all of the countries of the world; 
that many of the greater among which (as they have sent word to him), have 
carefully preserved. While to mankind such labor—through its products has 
gone—he has, year after year, for some time past, been coming, step by step, 
in greater degree, indebted to banks; that in their attitude towards him, 
through their authorities, have been all that one man could ask another to be. 
But, of late, not by banks, but by private individuals—have things been done, 
in the part of the United States in which he at present resides, of the sort 
that courts of equity were established, in a time close to what has been spoken 
of as the “dark ages,’ to protect men from. 

Banks are holding notes signed by him for thousands of dollars. These 
banks do not at all oppress him. But one private lender has, for a few 
hundred dollars, put attachments on the properties, which the banks have 
their loans secured by. In addition to his principal sum, he, wishing to ob- 
tain what, for one year’s time, would be equivalent to 100 per cent interest, 
besides attaching these properties, has also attached properties elsewhere, 
of slight, if any, value. 

For this reason—and the fact that the suit and attachment referred to 
make it almost impossible to sell the properties, on which the bank loans 
stand, and pay the banks—this work has been copyrighted. Until the writer 
can again (as for more than twenty years he has done), make use of almost 
all of the results of his labor, for the benefit, not of any one nation, but for 
the one final kindom, including all, that, as soon as men are ready to 
follow the supreme law of the planet’s growth, that is in this work set forth, 
they can cause to come—he will offer such copies as this one, of this work, 
for sale for $100 a copy to those who delight in furnishing endowments, with 
which to enable additional buildings to be erected on grounds of institutions 
of learning. In each copy men of discernment will find what is of worth, 
greater than all buildings, added to the learned schools in America, in such 
great numbers provided for. 

Over sixteen years before the date on which this work was put into 
print, a friend of the writer, talking to him in the Mills Building, San 
Francisco, said: That, if he had, at the time, been President of the United 
States, matters that, not long before, had happened, would not have occurred. 
The speaker then wondered that the writer could have been unwilling to 
have become President of the United States. The writer was silent in 
regard to the whole matter to which his friend had referred, and so has 
remained until now. Now the answer he makes to his friend’s look of aston- 
ishment at that time is in this work: showing how all nations (through 
becoming, by the general practice of equity, on the part of the very 
great majority, if not a universal equitable conduct of its people), one king- 
dom of heaven on earth, composed of former separated nations—with this 
greater factor connected with the matter; that when the nations become one 
and inseparable, into them, for each of their inhabitants, can there come 
gigantic understanding and knowledge, such as into any separate nation can- 
not ever come: wisdom, that can alone give to earth liberty, and everlasting 
peace; which no nation, except the kingdom, that the others, have caused 
to become one kingdom, composed thereafter of parts inseparable, through 
deeds only of service (forever thereafter kept together), can obtain. 

ADAIR WELCKER, 
1946 Dwight Way, Berkeley, California. 


Che Oue Kingdom io Come 


The writer in former works has presented characters about which people 
have in almost every instance asked if they were not living people that 
he had met and known in the world. A California writer—a friend, whose 
own writings, in the leading American magazines, have entertained and in- 
structed great numbers, after the M. S. of this work had been before hiny 
asked, in regard to one of the characters in it, the same question. The mar 
referred to by him is one of the two (the one, who, on the occasion, took no 
part in a conversation that was carried: on), whom the writer met in a 
“Bohemian” restaurant, not far from the north end of Montgomery Street, 
in San Francisco. 

The one furnishing to the public what is here written, over twenty years: 
ago, in a restaurant, in what writers and artists have called the “Bohemian 
quarter,” met the two men referred to. They were seated at one side of a 
small table. There being no one at the opposite side, he (as all of the 
other tables in the restaurant appeared to be occupied), took a seat opposite 
to them. 

As often, anywhere in California occurs, and almost always did in that 
place occur, a chance remark Jed to a conversation between the one wha 
writes this, and one of the two men. The conversation dealt with a subject 
that apparently to that man was of such interest, that the other of the two, 
while taking no part in the conversation, closely listened—having upon his 
face, while doing so, an expression of profound interest. 

“In such a manner,” the one until them silent, said, when it seemed that 
the conversation had come to an end, “that matter has not been treated, since 
a time a great many centuries ago.” Rising, after that remark, from the 
table, which his companion at the same time did, the two took their hats, 
and, after saying good night to me—for it was in the winter time and al- 
ready dark, although not later than 6 p. m.—the two together left the 
restaurant. 

Aiter they had done so it became the purpose of my mind to try and 
find out, by considering the matter, if I could, exactly what the remark of 
the man who had spoken last had meant. 

Long ago, believing that words only in part help to convey what is 
within each man’s deeper thought, it became one of the tasks that I have 
set myself to find out, if it is not the will of man, that is the larger factor, 
enabling him to convey to another the thought that words alone cannot. I 
tried, therefore, to find where, in man, the will is best expressed. Among 
other places, as nearly everybody knows, in which it is to be seen operating, 
I studied the expressions through which indications of it are allowed to he 
shown through the face. But such expressions may either show a mixed 
will, can disguise, or prevent it from being exhibited at all. 

Nevertheless [ continued long to make a study of these expressions, im 
order to find a way to get back of the expressions, whenever they were 
before me, to the will behind, that had caused them. 

As Columbus, out of his effort made to discover India somewhere west 
of the Atlantic ocean, came into contact, instead, with a new world—so the 
effort to discover, hack of the facial expressions of men, their wills, was I 
brought to discover in them what can with certainty show, and will not ever 
attempt to conceal, what their intentions may be. Further, this concentration 
of almost all of my thought, for a considerable leneth of time, showed me 
many of the alterations in man’s nature that are taking place; and that he 
will become a being, after a time, who will either not be able to—or, will not, 
after he has risen to greatness, far beyond that to which he at present has 
attained—wish to conceal anything. L 

Before that, when obstacles were stronger than the strength to which 
he will have attained, will he not have understood why. over thousands 
of miles, often has he, overcoming obstacles, to do so, passed, to meet others, 
whose names he had not ever heard spoken; upon whose bodies his eyes had 
fot ever looked. He will have learned that a quality there is, that can keep 
other men from (while still in the body), in this world ever coming to- 
gether. 

Since such studies were begun by me, I have known of men, who, un- 
derstanding why such a thing they should do, have gone on journeys, to a 
country as far away almost as the diameter of the earth, to look upon an- 
other—or others, of whom, from others—they had not before heard. After 





seeing those to whom they came, they, with no language spoken, other than 
that which their wills spoke, departed, never again on earth. with their 
physical eves upon one another to look. But thereafter, over any distance, 
by the methods of the will, were they able—by making use of what is the 
language, not of this one alone, but of all worlds—with one another to con- 
verse. For light is not in all of the suns; that are, when existing by them- 
selves alone, only something, in one way invisible; existing within a universe 
all dark. But in all men is there the light, that knowledge, that is to become 
theirs, is the cause of; and when two men, who have equal understanding 
come together, the light can—that is, the cause of light in the universe 
without—for them, be multiplied, through meeting, for each such is that ligh 

j i —the whole universe could only be a place, 
containing within it the blackness of darkness; that only knowledge, within 
man, can in part, by bringing into him light, show: that falsehood, and ab- 
sence of effort on his part, to do and obtain truth, for him can be allowed to 
sink things into a state of utter darkness. 

It was not many days after the time when, at the same table we had 
dined, the man who, on parting, had made the remark that had held my 
attention, before we, on turning the corner of California and Sansome Streets, 
again came together. For a few moments we stopped (and, as often after- 
wards we did), conversed. 

One morning a few weeks after that, I had gone to, and was looking 
down upon the bay of San Francisco from the top of Russian Hill, when 
I saw him walking up a pathway that led to where I stood. 

After having greeted each other he for a while looked, as I was doing, 
at Alcatraz Island, that was close at hand, and Angel Island farther away. 
After a time he remarked that the kay, as the atmosphere at the time made 
it appear, reminded him of Southern Italy. 

“And,” I said, “while we have been studying the bay, we at times have 
been looking over what in San Francisco—as you will have known—is an 
Italian city, in so far as a large part of the inhabitants are concerned, for 
they are Italians; as is, in part, shown by many of the signs over their places 
of business; and will be shown by the books in the windows and on the 
shelves of their book stores.” I asked him then if he had even been in 
Italy. 

“T was born there,” he answered, 

Later on he referred to one of those matters of which men generally 
are slow, even to their intimate friends, to speak. “Although born in Italy, 
he long, and from early childhood,” he said, “had had a feeling that in 
Italy he should not be, and that there—as it seemed to him—he should not 
have been born. For, with him another definite feeling, all of the time was, 
and it was that, to another country he belonged. Whenever he thought of 
it, before his imagination there at once appeared a city, having many white 
buildings within it; streets that always appeared, in the vision—located in 
the same place and order, and, near the center—always—the same great 
marble monument. This city he saw to be on the side of a slow moving 
river, many of the scenes through which the river moved, being of great 
beauty. The atmosphere which was above this river, and especially where the 
city was, by which its waters passed, appeared generally to him to be golden. 

As a child he had often begged his parents or his nurse, to take him 
back to it. He was afterwards told that, when they had to refuse such a 
request, the tears would be seen about to come to his eyes. 

He one day, when seventeen years of age, had given to a photographer a 
detailed description of this city. As always in imagination he saw them, he 
described a number of the streets and what seemed to be a great well, sur- 
rounded by stone. He described a number of the buildings and the great 
marble monument, not far from the city’s center, which stood at the top of 
a hill about thirty feet high. 

The account furnished to the photographer caused him to remember one 
of many pictures that he had, which had been taken by him of portions of 
some of the larger cities in different parts of the world. He procured it 
from his collection and showed it to the youth. As soon as it was before 
him he saw that it was the city that so long had been before him in imagina- 
tion. He verified and pointed out to his companion the buildings and streets, 
of which he had previously given him an account. The photographer told 
him it was one of the cities of Spain, by which a river passed. The youth, 
nh his physical body had not ever, up to that time, been anywhere in 

pain. 









My companion, some months after the day on which we together had 
looked upon the bay of San Francisco, from the top of Russian Hill, again 
telling me about some of his experiences in early life, stated to me that, 
becoming a seaman, he had afterwards several times, as a common sailor, 
gone on ships that had battled their way against the heavy seas, generally 
there to be encountered, around the horn. 

During the whole of the time that he had worked before the mast, in 
the time between watches, that he was able to give to it, he had steadily 
studied chemistry; and, how it was that he began the study of such a sub- 
ject, he gave an account of. 

When quite young his father one day sent him to a book store to obtain 
for him a scientific work, the name and nature of which the boy, before he 
reached the book store, had forgotten. All that he was able to tell the 
manager of the book store, after being questioned was, that he was sure 
that it was one dealing with science of some kind, Further than that he 
could make nothing known, except the amount of money given to him, which 
he still held in his hand, with which to pay for it. Knowing the boy’s father, 
the book-seller knew that it was in all probability a scientific work that had 
been sent for; and the only book, the price of which was the sum which the 
youth had brought, being that of no other scientific book that he had, except 
a work of Chemistry, he wrapped that up and told him fo take it home with 
him. 

When the boy reached home his father told him that he had brought back 
the wrong book: Writing the name of the work that he wanted on a slip of 
paper, he handed that to him, and told him to go and get it. “In the mean- 
time,” he said, “I will look the chemistry over and may keep it—or will later 
return it.” 

His son, when about to enter the store a second time, found that, on his 
way to it he had lost the slip of paper containing the title of the book. 
Going slowly home—expecting, at the least, on reaching it, to be severely 
reprimanded—he gave to his father an account of what had happened. After 
looking for some moments on his countenance, his parent said that it was 
plain that he badly needed a book on chemistry and told him to keep it. 
He would later go to the book-seller and obtain from him the book that he 
himself needed. 

The man, who gave the account of this occurrence to me, has since 
become—if not the greatest—assuredly one of the greatest of the chemists 
that the United States has, up to this time, had in it. 

I one day asked him if the work that has resulted in the discoveries 
that in succession have come to him, had been easy. 

“Easy?” he asked. Not easier than, for them (if an article in a journal 
that, this morning, I have been reading, is well informed), it has been for 
authors of the kind of literature that is great, in many instances to find pub- 
lishers of the right kind, to publish their works. 

The article stated that, after thirty of the ‘book publishers of the United 
States had rejected what is perhaps the greatest work of the kind that has 
been produced in the country, it went afterwards into the hands of four of 
the great book publishing houses of Great Britain, before a fifth cheer- 
fully offered, at its own expense, to publish it. 

“What things are there that are easy of accomplishment?” my com- 
panion asked. “Cannot every intelligent man at a glance see?” Feathers 
are very easy to lift, and many are the sensational dailies, and their monthly 
issues—and such works as the innumerable minor book publishers publish— 
writings such as could very easily, and by the best of all methods, perhaps, 
be published—by tearing them into scraps of paper, and allowing the winds 
to publish them, after they had been tossed into the air from the top of the 
tallest of the New York skyscrapers. 

To accomplish things great, can be easy to no man, until he has ac- 
quired capacity, to feel no regret—and capacity, at times, to feel even pleas- 
ure—that either he, or others, have seemed to fail to do what they should ~ 
have done in connection with his work. 

“T do not know how it is with others,” my companion continued, “but, 
almost from infancy, the oak drew me to come, and for long periods of 
time—sometimes an hour—to stand before it, What it was saying to me, 
from its form outwardly, or to all who could comprehend, I had not then, 
mentally, learned; but I seemed from it to have absorbed knowledge. For, 
all that I thought that it had said, I later found to be so. So, having started 
early in life to make its acquaintance it became, and always has continued 


to be (except, and next after the palm tree, that explains that man dies but 
to be born again), my favorite tree. 

I of late have been made sad, by what has happened to one of these 
outbranching and glorious expressions, of one of the nobler forms of splen- 
did heroism. 

As a boy I saw its branches reaching out in all directions; and how, 
while this was happening, the whole oak was reaching ever upward. What a 
splendid biography, as its arms and hands seemed to be reaching in all of the 
directions, as set out on the compass, and ever upward, for all things that 
are best—it all of the time was writing. What words, for centuries, had 
it not been uttering for all men, who had stood before it, to hear! 

If living men generally did not hear, it seemed as if such splendid gather- 
ings as the prophets had seen (to other men invisible), in great numbers, 
must have often gathered before it, to hear the great things that centuries had 
taught it to utter. As a boy I had suspected that, to trees that speak to them, 
men in return have also something to say: not then having learned of what 
a necessary need, is the existence of man, to all of the things of the earth 
that grow on, and out of it, 


I later came to understand why some of the strongest of men have 
their weakness, that really is a different strength, that adds to them what 
at times seems to be the most lovable thing about a man. For, if men and 
women have suffered, they can no more love others who, recognized to be 
strong, have not suffered, than they can love one of the pieces of iron in a 
bridge that is all iron. And so, my companion, interested me, when he told 
me how he had frequently been brought to think that it was hardly worth 
while to continue to try to get into, men’s understanding things, that scholars, 
in seats of authority, would neither themselves go into any understanding of, 
nor allow others to; that afterwards, when widely comprehended, they 
sought more loudly than all others, to applaud. That which afterwards they 
wished to make widely known—after others had applauded it—they seemed 
not to blush to remember that they first had announced to consist of 
vagaries. Naturally many great scientists, who had great problems of their 
own to work out, had at first remained silent; for they only vaguely at 
first obtained some idea of what other important matters were. But, so 
far “over the heads” of many others, who had expended nearly all of the 
energy that was in them to obtain membership in institutions to “promote 
knowledge” or “science” that they, out of such authority as they thereby 
obtained, sneered in connection with his work, as years before some of them 
had done, when the suggestion that electricity could be used as a motive power 
had first been made. 


My friend later on having put his various discoveries in chemistry 
to so many practical uses, that the greater part of his time had to be 
expended in connection with them, when by such people he was asked to be- 
come a member of organizations of theirs, for “promoting science’ and 
knowledge, my friend (for, by that time, such he had become), felt that the 
only thing that he could, in justice to those who would be, by his labors 
benefited do, was to reply that he no longer had time, that he could ex- 
pend in serving as a member of such bodies, 

During the years that I have known him, the great things that were in 
this man’s nature were—many of them—one after another, disclosed. Before 
I had come intimately, as IT believed, to know him, he had impressed me, 
as one of the ship’s crew impressed the other sailors, described in Dana’s 
“Two Years Before the Mast,” or about, as the profound lawyer, Lockwood 
(who would, neither in court nor out of it, use any work on law except 
Blackstone’s Commentaries; nor, possess in addition to the two volumes, in 
which they were then printed, any other book), impressed at first other 
lawyers in San Francisco; and then a Governor of California, who, after 
Lockwood’s death, wrote and published an account of him. 


The quiet and handsome young man on Dana’s ship, of whom his com- 
panions know but little, by his eye and form nevertheless seemed to assure 
them of something within him, unusual and great; and the lawyer, who 
would not use or possess a library more pretentious than one having in it 
not over two books, seemed to other lawyers and juries, when before 
them he spoke, to be influencing his hearers by laws of some kind, more ef- 
fective than all of those books in the law libraries of other lawyers; that 
overawed some clients because, within them, there were hundreds, or thousands 
of volumes. 





My companion, some months after the day on which we together had 
looked upon the bay of San Francisco, from the top of Russian Hill, again 
telling me about some of his experiences in early life, stated to me that, 
becoming a seaman, he had afterwards several times, as a common sailor, 
gone on ships that had battled their way against the heavy seas, generally 
there to be encountered, around the horn. 

During the whole of the time that he had worked before the mast, in 
the time between watches, that he was able to give to it, he had steadily 
studied chemistry; and, how it was that he began the study of such a sub- 
ject, he gave an account of. 

When quite young his father one day sent him to a book store to obtain 
for him a scientific work, the name and nature of which the boy, before he 
reached the book store, had forgotten. All that he was able to tell the 
manager of the book store, after being questioned was, that he was sure 
that it was one dealing with science of some kind. Further than that he 
could make nothing known, except the amount of money given to him, which 
he still held in his hand, with which to pay for it. Knowing the boy’s father, 
the book-seller knew that it was in all probability a scientific work that had 
been sent for; and the only book, the price of which was the sum which the 
youth had brought, being that of no other scientific book that he had, except 
a work of Chemistry, he wrapped that up and told him fo take it home with 
him. 

When the boy reached home his father told him that he had brought back 
the wrong book: Writing the name of the work that he wanted on a slip of 
paper, he handed that to him, and told him to go and get it. “In the mean- 
time,” he said, “I will look the chemistry over and may keep it—or will later 
return it.” 

His son, when about to enter the store a second time, found that, on his 
way to it he had lost the slip of paper containing the title of the book. 
Going slowly home—expecting, at the least, on reaching it, to be severely 
reprimanded—he gave to his father an account of what had happened. After 
looking for some moments on his countenance, his parent said that it was 
plain that he badly needed a book on chemistry and told him to keep it. 
He would later go to the book-seller and obtain from him the book that he 
himself needed. 

The man, who gave the account of this occurrence to me, has since 
become—if not the greatest—assuredly one of the greatest of the chemists 
that the United States has, up to this time, had in it. 

I one day asked him if the work that has resulted in the discoveries 
that in succession have come to him, had been easy. 

“Easy?” he asked. Not easier than, for them (if an article in a journal 
that, this morning, I have been reading, is well informed), it has been for 
authors of the kind of literature that is great, in many instances to find pub- 
lishers of the right kind, to publish their works. 

The article stated that, after thirty of the book publishers of the United 
States had rejected what is perhaps the greatest work of the kind that has 
been produced in the country, it went afterwards into the hands of four of 
the great book publishing houses of Great Britain, before a fifth cheer- 
fully offered, at its own expense, to publish it. 

“What things are there that are easy of accomplishment?” my com- 
panion asked. “Cannot every intelligent man at a glance see?” Feathers 
are very easy to lift, and many are the sensational dailies, and their monthly 
issues—and such works as the innumerable minor book publishers publish— 
writings such as could very easily, and by the best of all methods, perhaps, 
be published—by tearing them into scraps of paper, and allowing the winds 
to publish them, after they had been tossed into the air from the top of the 
tallest of the New York skyscrapers. 

To accomplish things great, can be easy to no man, until he has ac- 
quired capacity, to feel no regret—and capacity, at times, to feel even pleas- 
ure—that either he, or others, have seemed to fail to do what they should 
have done in connection with his work. 

“T do not know how it is with others,” my companion continued, “but, 
almost from infancy, the oak drew me to come, and for long periods of 
time—sometimes an hour—to stand before it. What it was saying to me, 
from its form outwardly, or to all who could comprehend, I had not then, 
mentally, learned; but I seemed from it to have absorbed knowledge. For, 
all that I thought that it had said, I later found to be so. So, having started 
early in life to make its acquaintance it became, and always has continued 


this kind, both within the sea and wherever, on lands, such wills as his is. 
are. The consequence is that, out of himself—to go, and dwell within all 
of the agony that he, and all of such kinds, on sea and land create, may 
the, after a time, have by that which the will is, to be drawn.” — ; 

“Your words, of course,” I said, “would be taken by the ordinary thinker, 
wwho knows not so much of what will is, as to see what it comes from, to be 
fanciful, and used only in a fanciful sense, and what you have pointed to as 
one ‘of the least of the consequences of being a man whose occupation i 
‘that of a money shark, a matter not seriously to be considered.” 


“When you use the word ‘sense,’” my companion responded, “you have 
touched upon a great matter. There is a sense, that, from one end of the 
earth to another, unites noble men and women in consciousness, and with 
things ‘animate and inanimate’ (so called). So, there are senses that unite, 
from one end of the earth to another, and, as ages pass, ever in greatet 
degree, all existing things—men included—that have within them the will 
of the hog. All sharks of the sea, or on the land, are by their wills united. 
All of the evil, that all kinds of hogs cause, must be, by each hog sooner 
or later, because of the kind of will that has been permitted to be within it— 
paid a horrikle price for. And all of the agony, or distress, that each shark 
encased in human flesh has brought to a fellow man, or woman, after a time 
must all sharks, through equal suffering—because of the manner in which 
the Justice of the Universe has ordained that all kinds of wills shall operate— 
pay for. For that Justice has so made wills, that foxes, or wolves, or sharks 
are to find that all acts, done through other bodies, than those appropriate 
to them, are to produce, for them, dire consequences. 


After those, who have obtained the deeper knowledge of nature, see 
what—after sharks have taken into their bodies from living human being’s 
flesh—is going afterwards to happen, they will see, also, what to sharks on 
Jand is going, suddenly or slowly, to happen: sharks that, within the forms 
of men, on land dwell; and among them move about; and, with them, carry 
on transactions that to those who judge by the outward appearance, are 
supposed to be entitled to be called business, because they are disguised 
under that name. 


Sense? Nonsense? How much—how little—do we know of either? The 
clown, in the middle ages spoke wisdom, The hearers laughed. Scholars 
spoke nonsense. The hearers looked solemn, If a Chief of the Chinook In- 
dians (whose language, if it had fifty words, had certainly not many 
more), had, fifty years ago, asserted that the iron at the end of the spear, 
with which he obtained fish, had a soul in it, how loudly would not white 
men, across their great western river, have laughed. And yet some scien- 
tists, dealing with pieces of different kinds of metal, of different shapes and 
sizes, have said, that under certain conditions those pieces of metal act as if 
souls are in them. Some of them act as if the fish, that the metal has speared, 
had gotten back into the thing that took its life. And why may not some- 
thing happen to a sea shark, that has taken into itself something, that just 
before had been doing things on earth that, in the sea, a shark had not 
ever found out how to? Why should not something be able to get into the 
shark on land, who has been doing to his fellow man something there, that 
nature says—being not a thing to be done on land, but in another place— 
must therefore be taken, through a process of nature, stronger than that of 
all police forces combined (either before, or after the man’s body has been 
shriveled up by it), to that other place, where nature has said that such a 
will ought to be? 


I have spoken of sense, and have also, in the way that I think Ruskin 
might have done, referred to nonsense. We beings, walking about the out- 
side of the earth, usually suppose that we see each other. The real man we, 
with the physical eye, cannot see. It is a mistake. The real man can only, 
by another process, be seen. The physical eye sees, merely, the real man’s 
ghost. We judge wrongly, generally; because we judge, koth men and 
things, by that which they are not; by the appearance—mistaking for them 
the mere coverings of them. But, back of all of these things that alter, 
are real forms, that are alive—that die not. Beautiful—because generous— 
are sometimes shapes. And the inner and real shapes, are of pure imagina- 
tions the meanings—are eternal words. There are shapes that are terrible. 
There are those that only drive. But there are those, stronger—that can 
draw. Or, more exactly to express it, there are shapes through which men 
can be driven; others, through which they can be called for—and drawn. 








There are shapes, forming about men, by which they are put to sleep; others, 
that can cause them (into life, of an exactly measured kind), to awaken. 

What are the shapes that take form about those who have had the awful 
folly to go forth to despoil others? Does any man long suppose that the 
whole universe can, by him be—without all of its weight coming, after a time, 
back against him—mocked? Even—ruthlessly to destroy, what are called 
physical things, he must after a time learn to be a mistake. For that reason 
I like not to see university instructors, gathered together, by a vote of the 
majority saying that in front of a university club house, where they gather, 
in order that they a still prettier grass lawn may come to have, a broken and 
aged oak tree shall be cut with axes; be bound about, with ropes and chains ; 
and afterwards be dragged, by them, until it shall come falling to the earth. 
For, at the moment that the life—that the oak has so long had within it, 
to sustain it against the onslaught of hurricanes; and keep it standing and 
reaching upwards—been caused to rise upward, and out of it by its severance 
from the earth, is some human being also, who long has been working in the 
direction of the supreme freedom—as the oak goes down—going to be caused 
to go down with it.” 

“Tt would follow, from that then,” I said, “that all of those people who 
are so persistently and constantly urging that nature, through the destruction 
of things alive upon it, shall be made more beautiful, are in one sense, like 
butchers.” 

“Not in ore sense only,” responded my companion, “but—in some of 
those things that I have found them to be doing—they perform not the work 
of butchers, but they slaughter some of the things of living beauty, in a 
manner that causes growing things (in their way of being broken-hearted), 
from that part of the surface of the earth to go away; not for a long time 
afterwards there again to appear. Artists, are caused such growths to remait 
close to—for, although the artists may not know how it comes about, or evert 
be aware that it is so, they (as women leaning over and loving flowers), cause 
them to increase in their beauty; and attain fo a greater and better life. 
But, from places where trees are cut into cubes, or otherwise cut and gashed 
in order to make them look (as, by such processes, those who ordered this, 
supposed that they would, better than natures process had planned to make 
them), will such growths move away. 

It is one of the results of sheep, in great numbers, having been brought 
closely together, that they shal! become all of equal intelligence. If some 
fright, or other occurrence, makes one an anarchist, all become such. When 
the sheep, developing beyond four, have but two legs, upon which to move 
about, they are controlled, to some slight degree, by the men among whom 
they move. But now, more occurrences arise to disturb them. So, thinking 
that they can get rid of all of their harassing fears, rushing into separated 
crowds, some, or all of these, undertake to do as they please—and then un- 
dertake to rule the shepherd. These sheep, year after year, increase the 
number of rules and regulations, for the shepherd to follow until he has been 
completely tied and bound, and made their slave by them; until, although 
they call him Governor, there is left existing no other government than that 
of those majorities, of which the sheep have made themselves the larger part 
—that, having bound the shepherd, neither rule, nor are ruled, 

As the sheep, by their actions are caused to believe that all other things 
in the universe are, like themselves equal—for the masters of Art of the uni- 
verse they cannot care, and in them cease to believe. 

In consequence, all who by mistaken methods of beautifying maim what 
they suppose to be inanimate, is beauty in all of its vast variety of expres- 
sions, driven (as it may be expressed), from pillar to post over the world. 
To such “beautifiers” seems it never to occur that a reason there is why 
plants can—offended—leave countries and (as men travel), move down rivers 
and along ocean currents, as “hoboes” across plains and over mountains do— 
as wearied “globe trotters” do, from country to country. 

Beautifiers, of the kind referred to, show that they do not know that 
there are two kinds of Art; one, that, through adulterated, distorted and 
broken parts of imagination, destroys ; the other kind, true to the perfected 
whole, that creates life, in action, instead of, as the other does, allowing it 
to go back where it came from, and by its withdrawal from things produces 
what is called death. 

Through the operation of the first, often have nations, filled with great 
and generous people, that were adding to civilization, been brought for a time, 
through the kind of governments that they allow to be above them, to cease 





to do so; and, through their distorted philosophies, to become hypnotized ; 
and, sinking into a deep coma, out of it express the idea that savagery has 
become now civilization; that all of the great religions, out of which civiliza- 
tion has been, through the slow movement of the ages, built up, were the 
opposite of what they were put forth to be; that black is white; offense, 
defense; right, wrong. 

The supreme horror, that through ignorance of what the one pure and 
perfected imagination is, causes, out of men, to be lost the quality of mind 
that can distinguish between black and white, right and wrong, is largely 
caused by the philosophies of evil, that, working steadily upon the minds of 
men and nations, can at last hypnotize them until, when asked, they will be 
ready to think that they believe such things. 

Therefore, let all such nations at night look upon the wide open book, the 
letters on the earlier pages of which are stars, and read what the first of 
its pages say. And then let them see the pages farther away, upon which no 
stars are to be seen. ‘Death’ (say those generally unseen pages), by what 
is here said, is shown to have no sting. For it is but a passage away from 
the places, scattered throughout this universe, where life comes, for a time 
to great weariness, to another condition, in which there will be none. It is 
but a passage from places, of which the earth is one, in which are many 
stings, to another, in which stings cannot ever be. But, when I am referring 
to matters such as are these,” said my companion, “I become like a speaker 
making a speech.” 

“As T am your audience, it will be my privilege,” I said, “to ask you 
to go on.” 

“Impressed, as you have been, while we look upon this vessel that is 
now left here inland, never again to sail the seas—the ocean far north is 
shown to my imagination,” my companion said. “I see the sailors, and the 
commander of the ship, looking upon great blocks of ice, through which she 
is slowly taking her way. Another time I see a sudden fog gathering about 
her. I see her once more, on an occasion when, for some reason that the 
vision does not show, the bow is raised higher up than it should be, and the 
stern is down lower. And then I see her where no ice is, slipping over long 
blue billows; while, at her bow the white waves spread to right and left from 
her, a ‘bone in her mouth, as onward she moves through the waters. 
Then I think of more than these sights that are shown to me. I think of 
the meaning of the continuous sound, to be heard when shells picked up on 
the sea shore are placed against the ear. How, and why were the shells so 
formed, as to produce the same sounds that waves, breaking against the 
edge of the earth, do; talking to the earth of what its death can be, and of 
what its life is. Watching the clouds rising up over the horizon I think of 
the many ways in which, passing over him, these clouds affect man; of what 
the rhythm of the moving billows of the ocean is causing to go through men 
traveling upon it to all of the others, of the earth, that are not. I am 
thinking of what (beyond carrying news), great newspapers, borne from land 
to land, across this ocean do; what the others, that obtain money from the 
people of a land, under the pretense that the forged signatures, forged an- 
nouncements, and garbled statements frequently in them, are news, are going 
across oceans to accomplish.” 

“We know at least,” I said, “what, with certainty, comes back to those 
(and comes, like a great avalanche descending from the Alps), comes, often 
from far away lands; who, within their own lands have garbled, forged and 
falsified statements, as to citizens there living, who have been, by their utter- 
ances in some cases, made almost mental wrecks; while others, then not far 
advanced in years, in whom was the promise of genius have apparently, by 
what garblers were putting into their papers to be sold with them, been 
brought to death, that came to them, while still young. Others, long after 
foreign countries had begun highly to honor them, were at home abused by 
them, in such manner that, perhaps, out of the false representations, that 
into the papers went, hundreds of thousands of nickels in return for having 
made them, by their owners were obtained, as (from the forged papers—from 
them, or by them—prepared) thousands of dollars, to which the nickels 
amounted, were. Other men, for disposing of a single forged paper that, 
for them obtains money, are by the laws punished. Another—obtaining money 
(through deceiving people, who suppose that they are paying for “news,” 
and selling to them hundreds of thousands of papers, containing in them 
forged names, or forged documents), waits for his punishment perhaps a 
quarter of a century, to receive it from some far away country, from which, 


perhaps it never occurred to him that it might come. But, from what- 
ever source it may come, it teaches him what he cannot ever afterwards for- 
eet; the folly of supposing that, the weight of a whole universe, may any 
man mock. 

What is a name? Does a man’s occupation show it? Centuries ago a 
Smith was a Smith. When a man then was called tailor, something of what, 
in the day-time he did, could be known. Something, on two legs, walking 
about the town in which he lived, was known to be a something that baked 
bread, when people said he was Baker. But a man now called Shoemaker 
may be a something that makes hats. In this day we think we know, but 
do not Tanner, whose countenance has become tanned by the sun because 
he is a farmer; any more than we comprehended, because he has a daugh- 
ter, who has lost her name of Tanner, through marrying a man, who is not 
the son of any one of the John’s in the world; but, notwithstanding 1s, by 
those who to him speak, designated Johnson. Another man who is called 
Miller, is in part to be understood by other man, not as being a miller— 
for that he is not—but as the Coleman, who is a goldsmith, whose only son 
died last year, after eating what he supposed to be, but were not, mush- 
rooms. 


Now if these people are not any of them that which they are called, 
what then are they? Are they all expressions of one unit? Or, are they, 
because of that flesh, that has been put on them—actually separate units? 
Are they reflections of many things; or can, in the universe, separate things 
anywhere in reality exist? Is it possible that a man can be his own occu- 
pation? It seems to me that—in the deeper sense—it may be possible for 
him to be. What then, is the ruler of a country, who has been selected to act 
for many, who have the idea that he knows more than they do, if he has not 
knowledge of himself? And should those who say that he seems to be wise 
—because he appears to them to think as they do—select him, until after they 
have obtained knowledge that he has found out how to walk in the way, 
that alone can lead a man to the place where he will be, for the first time, 
able to look upon, and know himself. 


I have, up to this time, been quoting some of the longer of the utter- 
ances of my companion that served to make up a part of our conversation. 
Many other matters about which, in the course of that conversation we 
spoke, had been referred to in brief comments. I observed, however, that when 
he was dealing with the larger matters of life, its greater subjects seemed to 
take hold of him and bear him upward and at times almost altogether away 
from his body. Then (one with the suns and worlds about him, upon which 
men’s eyes, with but imperfect discernment, ordinarily look), seemed he, for 
the time being, to become. To his face would there then come the expression 
of one who, having been looking out of what was shown to him—by life 
everlasting—to be within himself everlasting life—had learned the chief les- 
son that this great school, the earth, in it has had placed, for man to learn, 
Hereafter was it—for him—of worlds having in them wills that were other- 
wise, to acquire knowledge. 

I long ago had understood why the shepherds, and peasants of the 
dim ages of the past, as untrained minds in this day do, have without cause 
—other than that, they did not know why—feared men who were able to go, 
from their bodies, to the places where the real genii of this and of other 
worlds are: for that reason calling such men, whom they feared—although 
they were their chief benefactors—men of genius. 


T knew of the dangers, for the physical body, of the journey that on 
these occasions my companion took. Had an untrained nature gone where 
the chief part of this man had gone, I knew of what, to him, could have 
happened. I knew that (unlike the Egyptian, who had, all of his life 
before, had for him all that he desired quickly provided—although before- 
hand warned, wishing at once to have greater knowledge than all of the learn- 
ing of Greece had ever attained to—after being told to stand at a place as- 
signed to him, from sunset to sunrise, was the next morning at sunrise there 
still found standing, with not more life in him than has a statue made from 
marble), this friend of mine could have stood where, for three days and 
three nights, nature’s forces could have beaten upon his soul, without driving 
it from his body, until it had been beaten into that perfected condition that 
would enable it to look upon more than one—upon many of the mansions, that, 
in perfected forms of Art everlasting, are existing in the vast heavens, where, 
as to the oceans, drops of water are, stars are to them—about us. 


So, far out of his kody did his imagination, perfected by his desire, 
at the cost even of the loss of his soul from his body, if that had to be, to 
know the truth (to which perfected imagination, can, with all the certainty that 
pure mathematics shows—lead men), that, as one day we were standing on 
the greatest ocean’s shore together, while his soul was lifted from his body, 
another man standing near was caused to come close; and taking from his 
breast something that he held out to him, said: “This has been blessed. 
Take it, and let me stand to be here, one with you.” He was an uneducated 
man, in the sense in which that term is generally used; and plainly had none 
of the wealth of this world. But evidently he felt, or knew something, of 
which it will be well for all of the greater men of science to learn. 

Suddenly, about the three of us, who were there gathered, the mighty 
countenances of great thinkers of ages long gone (who were not in their 
flesh), as distinctly almost as other men in flesh do, began to appear; and, 
about us, a vast building, the walls of which were whiter than snow, was 
suddenly formed; within which gathered hundreds of thousands who, in 
silence listened, while my companion—and the great ones who had come 
first—together conversed, showing how, out of the things that had been others 
now were about to come. What the others said, as to times and places, I 
knew was not to be written. What utterances of my companion I wrote 
down, afterwards seemed spoken at great length. But at the time that I 
listened, his utterances seemed not greater in length, than are the higher 
order of dreams, that express all of the details of occurrences, that extend 
over years, as quickly as boys called “calculating boys,” solve problems, in 
mathematics, that it would take others, by ordinary methods, days to solve. 

The cause of the length observable in some of the nobler utterances of 
literature—utterances such as were some of those, both in prose and verse by 
Milton—I did not, in my earlier years—when newspaper work had trained 
me generally to use short sentences—understand. 

Later in the day—after we had stood beside the ship of Amundsen for 
half an hour—my companion suggested a walk down the beach, where there 
was something not often to be seen, that had come up from the depths of 
the ocean, which he wanted me to lock upon. 

“How little,’ I remarked, as we took our course along the beach, 
close to the point up to which the breaking billows came, “do we usually 
know—how little do the majority of mankind know of all that—to quote the 
language of the song—the wild waves (that as we know are not at all wild), 
are saying!” My companion smiled. 

“What would you say, off-hand?” I asked him, “is the matter of largest 
importance that, from their expressions out of the vast language of animate 
things, should—for the use of mankind—be translated ?” 

“Not largest, their statement (that—as if it were a compliment, which 
they are so constantly making to the earth)—when the ocean says: ‘Oh 
earth, you, in one way, are old. But nevertheless, sister of. mine, you are 
young, very young; not yet even nearly fully grown. But I—(you could not 
even begin to comprehend me), if I were to say to you, how old I am!” 

“The sister,” said I, “must be driven into a state of immeasurable 
wonder when even so much as that is spoken to her by her brother, this great 
ocean.” 

“What I would say, in response to your question of some moments ago,” 
my companion said, “relates, not to anything that the ocean is saying to the 
outward earth; not to the outer man—nor the expression that the intellect, 
unaided, produces for it; but to the being, walking always beside of—and 
with the outer man; who, in the case of every man, is of worth, beyond 
that of the outer man: or worth, beyond the worth of the whole outer earth. 
I speak of what was, by the ocean spoken, as, by the side of the physical 
Newton, another and greater Isaac Newton walked, to whom, because he 
loved-its shore, the ocean spoke. And thereupon had the physical Newton to 
say, what the greater Newton had understood, but the lesser, for a long 
time could not explain; what another, through mathematics, for him had 
first to explain.” 

“And yet,’ I said, “may not even mathematics, that, rightly being called 
pure mathematics, is sacred and glorious, be unable to explain what the 
greater man, of each man is, who walks beside the beginner of himself 
throughout its life-teaching. True, when one of the Titans of thought was 
told by the separated and greater part, that walking beside, was instructor 
to the self being taught to say that a planet there was, farther away from the 
earth, than any capacity they had, could then see, or men had before been 





aware of, by the processes of science then known, to men he proved it, and 
near a century after, men saw it. But beyond all physical worlds, meanings 
beyond the reach of even mathematics are there and matters for the greater 
man, that by the side of himself walks, to discover. Can any mathematics 
explain—by outward measurements—from what source comes the ocean? 

“That may men not know,” my companion answered, “until after, through 
the language that this ocean all day long speaks, they have been shown what 
fire is. Not until that day, when through all of them doing to others as 
they would themselves be done by, a greater comprehension, and under- 
standing to men descends, can the universe be made, by the greater sight 
then furnished to men, one vast panorama—such things to show; an end- 
less moving Dict etter ca to look upon, and upon it see written step 
after step, as it befofé“{S" Passing, the meaning of things. 

Now are the will of men, as equity is not universally practiced, kept 
separated and broken, conflicting and unable to become connected with, and 
brought to the one great will, that is the vine down through which passes 
the life from the cause of all things; by which, if equity had made men all 
alike, in equitable conduct, all things could before any man come to be made 
known. 

Now, because men’s wills, if they dwell not in equity, are only of the 
planet, if men, doing towards others constantly what is not according to 
equity, strive to get higher than iff the will of the external planet, for them 
must the result be, that their earth, ending the lives of such children, will 
cause their bodies to be taken back into it; for their souls will have struggled, 
before they have earned the right to, to go, unprepared for it, into a place 
where they should not. But, after having the right to become even brought 
into connection, with the will of the Sun, which it all of the time is telling 
them how to, can men begin to receive those flashes, called intuitions of 
knowledge that foretell—just, as the first drops, foretell a shower—the gi- 
gantic understanding and meaning of things, that is awaiting every man, just 
as soon as all men, instead of striving to destroy, undertake to do to all 
others as they would themselves be done by.” 

“T used to think it curious,” I remarked, “that every great thought, not 
having any of the things physical, comes to the earth much as if it were 
what people call a pauper—the man who has not one of the many kinds of 
wealth, that many of the greatest among those who have it, look upon as 
the least important of all of the kinds that they have. In the days of my 
beginning of experience on earth looked I at this matter, as does one who 
has not been trained to measure values, and distinctly realize what are the 
only real ghosts that on the earth there are. And, harder to be comprehended 
by themselves, or others, are the ghosts that have about them bodies, that 
are even among the disembodied—that better understand real ghosts than 
others do—seen to be ghosts, walking about among them. 

But, let some great naked thought, larger that before in the physical 
world there has been, come suddenly into it, and in the outer world will 
there then be something that the ones who are more discerning will know not 
to be any ghost. For, wee a all wars can do—will it. Though those 
who have possessions alone, What are physical possessions will not know it; 
the profound, ten thousand miles away, will at once know that out through 
some forehead, suddenly out into the world, has it sprung. For like the lights 
coming from watchmen of old, on the towers, from mind after mind, over the 
whole world, to every man put into a condition to receive it will it pass; 
and, from his nature be passed on to another. Men of understanding look- 
ing up to them, will know that, from planet to planet, will its appearance 
on earth have been announced; and it be made known to earth that the 
measurements that beforehand, had been made among them, had been shown 
to be correct. Nearer to earth will men of understanding know, had venus 
and mercury, while passing along the roads that they travel, for a moment 
bent themselves; and the changed countenance of Jupiter will have shown, 
that he knew what had, on earth, taken place.” 

“And yet,” my companicn observed, “how many men, who think that 
they know eyen their own names, still say that the planets are infants 
that have not yet learned how, through the great language of imaginations 
perfected forms, that upon the pages of that vast volume, the universe, are 
put before them, with one another to speak; and, that these mighty watch- 
men of the night, cannot proclaim except—(contrary to crea ion’s greatest 
law), to themselves—that for which they have been establish@rhile on their 
orbits they move, to look for, and, having seen, to all worlds proclaim.” 


“When first,” I of my friend asked, “did you begin your study of the 
gigantic language of things, which men generally call inanimate; which— 
were there no animation in them—could cause them to belong the great 
equality of the government of such—that is only over the bodies of things 
dead ?” 

“Almost,” said my companion, with a smile, “as soon as.I saw, how, out 
of death, before its process has even ended, the resurrectio#7things of greater 
life, has commenced.” 


“Is there then, ever in the world any such thing as is supposed to be 
Democracy?” I asked. 

“Only the kind, of which great men know—the democracy of those who, 
loving the vast system of equity, which, with all of its laws, has been written 
in those two words: ‘Good Conscience,’ care not, whether or not, others 
have to be, by Democracy ruled because they, obedient to all of the laws 
of equity—that within these two words are contained—rule themselves.” 


“Equity,” said I, “that, as you one day stated, can, out of loss take 
gain; out of weakness, procure strength, by applying the right methods; as 
you illustrated, by the bridge that stands firm, while a thousand men cross, 
but can be caused to fall, when a small dog, without any conscious effort, 
trots rhythmically across it.” 


“Reverting,” my companion said, “to the matter that you asked about: 
As a small boy I had noticed that, although, the evening before, boys through- 
out the city and the country round about it, were playing marbles, the next 
morning not one of them was. Without exception all would be playing tops 
instead; announcing the law, governing—from what source they knew not 
—that ‘tops were in.’ 


“Tater I one day, was traveling through an area of a thousand—or rather 
of several thousands of acres—of ground, over the whole of which were 
growing oak trees, where afterwards was a small city, known because of its 
oaks, which the beautifiers, after the city became large, caused to be cut down. 
As I walked over this great area of ground, on which the oaks grew, I 
noticed no bird in the trees; none on the ground, under them. The next 
morning, at ten o’clock I saw what I never, during several years before that 
time, had witnessed: the ground covered apparently for miles with robins, so 
close together, that they seemed to be a moving or animated carpet. It 
caused me to begin to comprehend what it is that conveys other birds, from 
the western coast of America, along the best route in the air to be taken, to 
islands far away from the country, from which their journey is begun. 


“When I was close to my nineteenth year I became a sailor, before the 
mast, on a vessel departing from my place of birth in Italy. On crossing 
the line I was initiated, as sailors without knowing why, have been, on cross- 
ing the earthgequator, since long before the ships of Tyre ventured, beyond 
the Mediterranean, and went far from it on the Atlantic ocean. It is not 
known that, of this expenditure of energy, any sailor has said that he knew, 
after his initiation, what the cause of it was.” 


The morning now having gone by, as one o’clock was approaching, I 
suggested a walk through the park to its eastern end, that would get us 
there before two o’clock, when we could obtain a lunch at a place familiar 
to us both. 


“The walking part of it,” my companion responded, “is all right. But, 
in so far as the lunch is concerned, at present I hardly care for it. When 
I get, once in a while, in the company of some one, who with me takes a 
profound interest in the laws that show what causes death to come—tife to 
increase—I do not desire the kind of food that men, through ages, have 
been taught to desire and to suppose that they must constantly need. For 
now, I know that when the will of the Sun rules all men, and they for the 
garments of the planet cease to cast lots, on the single earth food (instead 
of through physical things), will directly to all men be provided.” 


“T grasp that to which, what you are saying, leads,” I said. “As, at first, 
before the wireless method had been developed, through some medium elec- 
tricity had to be taken, so, that which is the actual food, has still to be con- 
veyed through something physical, which the majority of mankind take to 


be the food itself; carried, through the medium, from conditions outside of 
him, to that real man within, who is in part, even beyond the flesh.” 

“Yes,” my companion responded, “the physical thing that man calls food 
is first, against one part of his flesh brought; into the kind of contact, that 
serves with that which has been brought into contact with it, to be a con- 
ductor of food to the real man; whose own greater body is, in another way, 
given for all who are not in wisdom as far advanced as is he. 


“Accustomed to look mainly upon the world without, it appears to most 
men that their natures meet with difficulties, almost insurmountable, there 
only. But there, within man is a consciousness of difficulties, and a greater 
intelligence, than that which deals with matters external that, after uniting 
itself with a greater wisdom, than the outer world can perceive, finds out a 
way to overconte them. This inner consciousness, and amazing wisdom, see- 
ing how it can be done, steadily works to accomplish things, in man, that 
altered conditions in the world without, call for. It will therefore startle the 
majority of the race to know that when all of the world’s countries—instead 
of states, within in any one country—have become, in the language of Daniel 
Webster, parts, “now and forever, one and inseparable,” from the ome great 
Kingdom on earth, then will there nowhere on earth any longer be minted 
coins, that, laid down one way, have “liberty” written on them, above the 
shape of a vulture—another, the shape of a vulture above; the word “liberty” 
beneath. 


In that great day, which will be the beginning of heaven on earth (that 
men can bring fo the earth as quickly as they care to), through the fact 
that, when all nations become one, and inseparable—because so many will to- 
gether in harmony work—will there be one mighty receptacle, for wisdom 
and understanding, which will be for all, and larger than otherwise it. could 
be, on earth. Every man then knowing every other, as he himself is known— 
all tears, from all faces, will forever be wiped away.” 


A little later, once more referring to the subject of intuition, to my com- 
panion I said: “Is it not odd that while, for centuries artists have almost al- 
ways painted halos that they place about the heads of their saints, they 
have not realized what a power, the continuous thinking of the hundreds of 
millions of beings that make mankind, is; and that, if it should be, all of it, 
always in the direction of equity, it can cause, about the whole planet, a halo 
to come. If the heart of the whole world is made to be always one heart (as 
a great thinker, in one of the noblest of the great universities of the con- 
tinent of Europe, hoped that a work, the scene of which was above the 
Golden Gate, might into the language of his country, be translated, in order 
that it might become, of the whole heart of that country, a part), then will 
a nobler beat of the world’s heart, in its movement made single, send back 
to the Sun greater words than of old, to say to it (what to many men it has 
not occurred to), that the earth is thankful to it for saying to its countries 
all that, it does, in the way of wisdom, and understanding, that to the earth 
can alone bring peace. But, if the whole planet were, to those, who out of 
wars make profit to repeat this—who among them would be willing—simply 
upon hearing it—to believe its report? But others, day by day multiplied in 
numbers, would.” 


“Many millions,’ my companion said, “have had developed within them 
wills of such a sort, that, through them can they be enabled both to see 
and to hear. For, although it will take thinkers of daring to go into the 
comprehension of such mighty matters, the world has in it no end of bat- 
talions of men. ready to go into the warfare against ignorance, that will cause 
the world to have in it less of the ice—more of the Sun—and (out of its 
greatest word of wisdom), more of the light. 


For the Sun shall melt in man his dividing line; and man_ shall no 
longer be man the two-sided. He shall become man, without—as within. He 
shall no longer, because of his own line of division, oppress any other men. 
He shall no longer do to any other man, except according to that whole 
of Equity, after which it is named; that is expressed, all of it, in two words: 
Good Conscience.” 

“And when all men, as all nations—through having learned that they 
are one and inseparable—shall do, and each to every other as he would him- 
self be done by—what a new power will there not, to each man, have been 
given. Over what pathways, beyond the planets and across the skies, may 


he not be able to send messages, stich as wireless apparatus could not 
begin to send; receive messages, such as only a new science can interpret. 
For such pathways already there are and beyond, the planets roads over 
which, through living and doing equity, men and nations can be taught how 
to walk.” 

“And knowledge,” my companion added, to what I was saying, “which 
alone ever can—will bring to all of mankind peace. And God—will not by 
men, when ignorance causes them to say, that he has created the hells, that 
they themselves alone do—any more be mocked. For they will hear one 
part of themselves, that out, of the hell, into which they put it, cries out, 
whenever the lash that they put upon the hack of another sends vibrat- 
ing into that separated part of them all of the pain that that blow into 
the other has conveyed. For east will have become west and west east 
for man—the two-sided. The great gulf, between the two parts of him, will 
all of the time be being thereafter crossed ; and no man will, after he so 
fully comprehends, as experience can alone make him, therefore, be—through 
striking another—equally as hard hit himself. 


After returning from the shore of the ocean and the discoverer’s ship, we 
separated; and my companion went to his room in the lodging house where 
he resided. A knock at the door a few moments after entering it, led 
him to find outside of it a man waiting, who, after first, suddenly moving 
backwards from his presence, handed to him a paper. It was a direction 
to him to meet, at a time and hour designated, other men that he had not be- 
fore met, who from him wanted, in connection with a promissory note, a 
sum that was named; and what, in addition was equivalent to more than 
109 per cent interest (that, was for a little over a year’s time), within which 
certain things might have been done. 


The proceeding against him had been brought in one of the California 
Superior Courts in which people (if they happen to have all of the money 
needed to pay the costs named, that give to them an opportunity to do so), 
can defend themselves: Courts that they are taxed to maintain in order that, 
by equity made use of in them, the people may be protected from being 
required to turn ever to others that which those others have not earned. 


Of course the law that requires a man to pay anything to his own court, 
that his taxes pay for—without paying which, he will have no opportunity, 
in his own court to defend himself from the classes of people who try to 
get from others, what criminals, for obtaining by a similar process, things 
are imprisoned has ceased to be a court of equity, before any man, to de- 
fend himself goes into it. 


We know about what glorious results first followed the action taken, 
hundreds of years ago when kings, who were sometimes themselves consid- 
ered to be cruel—horrifed to learn of the brutal consequences, following the 
insistance of many judges that forms should be closely followed in courts 
of law—without themselves using any forms went over the cases that the 
judges, insisting on form had decided, and promptly, in many cases, undid 
the brutal things that, through requiring forms to be followed, the judges 
had caused to be done. We know how, then, quickly learning that through 
petitions they could obtain relief, from) what tyrants scattered throughout 
the country, who, through their requirements that forms strictly should be 
followed, had done more harm than other tyrants could have done, the 
people in great numbers petitioned for such relief; in such numbers that kings, 
directing that forms be not used, appointed others; following the principles 
of the Sermon on the Mount, to undo what judges, out of the tyranny of 
forms and legal machinery, before that time had been able to accomplish. 

By the Colonists, in 1776, for whom Patrick Hienry spoke, and Wash- 
ington afterwards fought, but one kind of tyrant seemed to be thought of. 
They did not seem to realize that a kingdom can have in, and ruling over ate 
but one king at a time and that he could be either a saint or a tyrant. 
And if he was a tyrant, all of the people would be more likely to know it, 
than they would, if they had a great number of tyrants—that all of them were 
such. One man, they could look constantly upon and study; but, who the 
judges, in their lands were, who were worthy; who among those who are 
addressed, not as other men in a democracy are, but are sometimes called 
Your Honor, when they are anything but honorable, the whole people could 
not so easily tell. And men, in great numbers, of the latter class can do more 


harm, through the opportunity attached to their offices, to punish and de- 
prive of their liberty those who oppose their truculence or expose their ty- 
ranny, or crime, than ever one tyrant king has been able to do. It will be a 
waste of words to say to the discerning, that this is no reflection upon the 
able, and equitable officers—courteous, refined and learned on the bench, with 
whom the writer of this has, either more closely been assocciated, or before 
whom it has always been his pleasure to appear. 


Going beyond what works of medicine teach, my companion was one 
evening talking of the forms of disease that, through conduct contrary to 
equity, men can sometimes bring, as a deadly visitant, to themselves. He 
referred to especial kinds of oppression and particular kinds of consequences, 
that to men’s bodies, sooner or later, came from them. 


After that we for a while spoke of that process that nature has, by which 
a man becomes appointed to be more than Master of Earthly Arts; and, 
consciously Master of the great Art, by which through the forms of per- 
fected imagination, he is made Master of the Royal Art, through which, in 
some department of the universe, life is caused to go into expression. For 
there is a condition into which man can be brought, through which he can 
know, that, as his Maker before him has worked, he and others, with him 
can, when sufficiently trained, also work.” 

“The time,” I said, “has arrived and the conditions are present, in which 
to ask you this: ‘What, on going to the point farthest north and from 
that point looking forth, are you able now to see?’” 

“What”—after some moments, my companion responded—“can a man, if 
he does not die, with wide open eyes, after looking for some moments upon 
the Sun, at this time see?” 


I see, in the sun, no place ever to be, for any separate nation on earth. 
But, waiting for the hour to arrive, within the Sun, I see the one great 
united nation, all’ of the people within which are in it, only to serve, that is 
from the Sun to be delivered down, to be its one Kingdom from heaven on 
earth: And, among the innumerable cities of that kingdom, that differ “in 
many ways from those, that the earth now has, I see one great and glorious, 
that has foundations—stronger than the strength of the planet to which it de- 
scends. And, over the entrance to that city, is named the way whereby 
any man can become the Master of the greatest of all Arts and—after having 
become such—into that city then be permitted to enter. 


SANDERS «ds PRINTING CO. 
443 PINE STREET San FRANCISCO 


: 


APPENDIX. Stok 

There has, within this work, been shown the preess through which the laws of 
nature can operated. within won who, through their business transactions have® 
committed against the planets forward movenent the unpardonable offense of guip 
going backward, afteg having put on the shapes of aen, to do what insects, 
upon more advanced living forms do:_ to do, {although themselves nogwe advanced) 
what untaught men as innocently as sharks do when they, of the bodies of men 
wake physical food and into their stomachs. convey it. 

While this work was being put into shape to be printed, seated in Oakland 
(Califconia) on the bench of the Superior Court of Alameda county (which is sx 
established,*m as every court, from that of Justice of the Peace to the highs 
should be, to be a court, not only of law but of Equity) a judge has rendered 
& judguent of $426 on a promissory note for $376 wade by the writer payaole in 


ears tine which, in less than a years time the payee, under ve reat 
pressure, had turned over to a money ax lender fow $140’ cash; and Yor a writ- 


| 
ten paper in connection thorewith containing a peepee to him as toa diamond | 


| 
: 


— 





ring, placed upon which oy the owner and money lender was a Yam valuation of 
$180; the torms of the papor relating thereto oeing such that the one recetv- 


ing it was not able to meot thon. 

The judgment in this case, in favo¥ of Johnson the eaper lender bb $426 
against fhe writer is to ve found in the ost imvortant docusent that any court 
in the State of Califoenia has ever had in it; No. 50015 rf the Superior Court 
of Oakland (California); and awong the files is a copy of the papeg@ that the 
owner of the diamond ring signed, as to the ring that, after he had held it 


) 
yetomme before the eyes of the one that the paper said could obtain it, the . 
) 


: 


uoney lender put back and locked up in his safe where it perhaps ever since 


ss Oo S42 fl Se 
th 2 Baal 


73 


a a ee ll ale 


SS se 


EE 





has been; while, on account of the valuation that the money lender had put ape 
it of S160 that sum (that neither the one borrowing, nor the writer had receial 
received) at once, with the vest of the 2426 judgment began drawing interest 
that the judge of the Supe@ior court of Oakland, acting as a court established. 
to serve the poople whose taxes are paid to provide fow it as a court of Equity 
by his act had caused to oun on # diauond ring, that the money lender had put. 
back in his safe: the duty of which court, being ammxfuxxiyukkyx as it is, one 
by Byuity to oe governed and directed, is to aduinister the rules of right as _ 
they have ooen, in the Sermon on the Mount set out: to allow no useless rules, 
or regulations, or fornus, to interfere with or vitiate whatever from the erage 
Sergon on the liount cones, that is useful: to sea to it, whenever people into. 
a Court of Equity come to obtain out of the safety (as they think), coming out 
of courts, judgment in their favor; (something, vhen, if money to the sane 
extent by other wen is obtained, through their own selected methods of proceed 
use, it will bring them criminally to ve punished, they shall not, when they : 
ask for obtain it, unless they shall, before thay go where others do to seek 
Equity themselves have first granted it.) zs 
So now, before the bar of Judgment of him who has decended to and tazen up 

his matéSr of judging according to Equity, as in the Seq@mon on the Mount it 

is shown; whose court is that Planet Governing Court of Equity: (foreknowledge: 
of the location of which, where thioe is neither variableness nor shadow of 
turning; and of who the judge is nawxkuxkxyxextzivumeem who now has come, and 
has begun by Equity to judge the whole world, from his mathematically fixed 
®nd desi.nated place eeated;: has piven t if 6 0 
miles long by 50 wide whtt wau, ane 12" mei ex rikoustk bi vievts tant sel 


nation, of which the worlds history has ateecord has attained to);_ have the 







j Bany of them, besides palaces in which to lay their heads, and for their 
i institutions for learning accumulations, and incomes Such as kings and king- | 
+ 


dows as well as they, are able to obtain, yet have appropriated besides, the 
material rewards belonging only to the everlasting forms of labor, wherethrough 
h can alone such laws as is the Suprene law of the planets life that in this 


}work is set forth, to the carth be transmitted; befowe which ( no longer having — 
any excuse for not go doing after conprehending) because of that out of which 
it caue, every head to bow: which they, the conplacent, before it was by guethr 
another delivered, had Yecn entrusted in the vinyard of wisdom to work for, 
to find, and deliver, but wzait@ would not; and noy (without separately, or 
assembled togethe@, asking of him whose right it is, that they may either 
turn it over to him, or obtain from him the right themselves to retain it); 
resting complacent, striving to ignore the fact that to another, ont of kearem | 

heaven was it given, to express; and not to those who took the reward belongite 
to the one, out of whose forhead the birth of knorledge that caused it, was; 


wiil, sooner or later, in.a moment be, by one of *he ecotions of that planet 
(by which tremendously beloveh are all of it’s children that, through years 


expend the cost of labor imuortal, out of which come to be expressed those 
laws everlasting upon which, for it’s continued existence, the planet itself 
is dependent; that within them contain the poxer that alone can end the folly, 
causing wars to be started on it’s surface between nations that, from nen 
brought to die in them, into i+ send agony) so suld@enly be caused to have his 
stiff made to become linmoer, through the witldraval of what bofore had been 





L 
| 
4 
4 

( 


! 


} judge in the Oakland Superior case, and the uoney lender elbow to elbow, to 
‘stand; until it rill be seen that by t hem the Sermon on the Mount has been 


leon fed with. 





; And, vefode that Planet Governing court have now also to stand all of those a 
ip at the heads of the uwoney grasping nations (WHO, CAUSING, FOR MONEY, NOT GME. 


THE LIFE OF ONLY ONE SON OF WOMEN TO BE TAKEN, BUT MANY; WHO DOS NOT APTERWARDS - 
| FURNISH THE CHIEF EVIDENCE OF REMORSE THAT THE SUPERIOR MANHOOD OF ONE MAN ERY 
CAUSED HIM, AGES AGO, AFTEQ WHAT FOR GAIN HE HAD DONE, IN BRING TO DEATH, NOT 
MANY BUT ONE MAN, TO EXHIBIT) that, through the aid of nilitarisn,- as the 
certain consequence of it"s preparedness,- striving to obtain advantage over — 
others have on the planet orought, in Hurope, a wine press of blood; and also 
the U.S. (that, after secing what militarism has »rought about about, seeking : 
not to get the sane beam of “preparedness out of it’s own eye, has upon the f 
same course started); it’s first proceeding (survassing all of history's { 
records of first degree folly) having been to send, by that folly, less than 
100 men and officers to certain death, nearly 100 miles into the country of 
13,000,000 angeoed people. 

The dollar desire that caused (through the first degree folly of nilhtarism) 
those lives to be taken,all of the oenefits that through the ages out of 
nilitarism has come could not sla for. A 


ied a saa aback —— ee 


What follows is a type _writion addition to the AP?ENDIX that has been attach 
ed to copies of the paiiphlet; “THE ONE KINGDOM TO COME", that has been sent to 
California and other public libraries of the U.S., and also to institutions 
for learning in South America, Asia and ‘Europe. | 
THIS, THERE IS, for all of those aiong the couplacent to consider who, having | 





upholding the head above it, that he will wondor if what is a large@ strength 
ig, to hin to come backs and, witd the other (for$® period, either brief or tz 
longer) ever again, that head ( (that, taking the Peward belonging to the 
delivere@ of the law of nankinds advancenent into profounde@ understanding 
still, before the chief law of the planets life re 
was aliowed to xpfiurge refuse, to oow) uphold, 











ge8,_ because fora tine it 


Atar wWoleKa, 


